


A New Man

by Masonjar191



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Deaf Clint Barton, F/M, Gen, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Trans Bruce Banner, Trans Clint Barton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-26 12:25:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19005754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masonjar191/pseuds/Masonjar191
Summary: Clint was never able to afford Top Surgery. The past five years, he hardly took his binder off, leading to much pain and suffering. When he finally takes his binder off, dysphoria strikes hard, until his favorite doctor comes to his aid.





	A New Man

Clint lay in his bed, still crying after the funeral. He still couldn’t believe Tony was gone, even though he saw the man die in front of him, as well as him laying lifeless inside his coffin. Laura and the kids were still downstairs mingling, but he couldn’t take it anymore.  
He had been wearing his binder for too long, since before the Time Heist. He wore it as he watched Natasha sacrifice herself for the Time Stone, wore it as he ran through the battlefield. He couldn’t remember the last time he wasn’t wearing it. His ribs twinge painfully as he thought back. For the five years since the decimation, there weren’t many times Clint had taken it off, only to sleep, far from where anyone could recognize him as Ronin. Usually on the streets, but sometimes he did find a shitty motel, where he bribed the front desk with a fake name. He didn’t want to be Clint Barton the Avenger, or Ronin the assassin. He just wanted to be Clint, the name he had chosen for himself back when he was at the circus when he ran away from his life as a girl, Camille.   
The guest room of Tony’s lake house was the nicest room he had occupied in the last five years. As soon as his family was snapped, Clint ran until he came to a city. At that point, his ribs screaming at him, he ran into someone. As they screamed at him to watch where he was going, Cint attacked, stabbing the man with his pocketknife, until he lay bleeding in the street. It was then he looked to kill anyone who had survived the Snap that he considered unworthy.  
The same knife lay on the bed next to him. Clint swore it was still tainted with the blood of his first victim, even though he had washed it after every kill, not wanting it to be traced back to him.   
Clint picked the knife up. Its blade glimmered in the natural sunlight bleeding through his window. The handle seemed to curve into his hand. He threw it down. If he continued to hold it, he would resort back to his old habits, the ones that only came out when he sat alone, dysphoric, missing his family. They were back, he wasn’t alone.   
Clint slowly raised his shirt, hating how his binder no longer completely flattened him. He’d had this thing for five years, he wouldn’t dare order a new one while he was on the run, not wanting to be tracked. The thing was ratty and dirty, but it still compressed a little. He stripped until he was only in his boxers, feeling how at least he had his old packer.  
None of the team knew he was trans. Why would they need to? With Cap being from the 1940s, he was sure the man would hate him, even if Steve was bisexual. Tony was dead, so was Nat. Thor wouldn’t understand, he was from another planet. Bruce may understand, him having seven PhDs.   
Clint slowly took the binder off, wincing at the pain of touching his bruised ribs. He looked in the mirror with disgust. He had always wanted top surgery, he knew one of his teammates would help pay for it, but he never told them, in fear of backlash. He and Laura were never able to afford it, and he sure as hell would never dare stop for a few days to get it while he was on the run, even if he had the chance of having money to spare.   
The too large bumps of fat screamed at him ‘You’ll never be a real man, Clint. Or should I say Camille?’ He snapped back “I never was Camille! Leave me the fuck alone!”, tears prickling his eyes. He picked up the knife again, holding it to his chest. He felt the stainless-steel blade press against his skin, the cool metal a relief to his dysphoria. “Press a little further, cut along the skin, and you’ll be rid of them forever. You’ll bleed out, and the world will be left with one less tranny. You were always the worst Avenger. Thanos should have snapped you, too,” he said, not realizing he said it out loud. Just as he began to apply pressure to the skin, the door opened, revealing Professor Hulk.   
“Clint, what’s all the screaming abou- Clint no!” he yelled, seeing the knife slide into his friend’s skin. Of course, Clint’s hearing aids lay forgotten on the nightstand, so Bruce had to pull the knife out of Clint’s skin and hand.   
“Who the fuck?” Clint screamed, before seeing Bruce’s green skin. He instantly began to cover his torso with the pillows, not caring that their white fabric would be stained by his blood. “Bruce, no. Get out, I’m fine!”  
“You say as you had a knife to your chest! Clint, what’s wrong?” Bruce says, his large stature sinking down to Clint’s level, making sure he spoke clearly enough for Clint to read his lips. He grabbed the purple hearing aids, turning them on and giving them to the crying man. He tried to move the pillows.   
“No, Bruce, you can’t see me like this!”  
“Barton, I need to stitch this up, so you don’t bleed, so you don’t die of an infection! I will not let you kill yourself because of whatever you are feeling!” Bruce said calmly, taking the pillow again, seeing the small breasts on Clint’s chest. “You’re trans?”  
Clint blushed, choking out a sob before nodding. “How did you know; I could’ve just had large pecs?”  
“You are too skinny for that, plus you were trying to cut them off, Clint,” Bruce countered. “Now, do you want proper top surgery, rather than trying to cut them off yourself?”  
“Banner, of course. I, just, I can’t afford it. And no one would want to operate on a criminal.” A tear slipped down his cheek.  
“Don’t worry about the money, my friend. I have an M.D in plastic surgery. I can take care of your hormone treatments and any surgeries you may need. I doubt you had much ability to get testosterone these past five years, I’ll help you, Clint,” Banner smiled.   
“How do you know so much about trans stuff?”  
“I’m trans, too Clint. I transitioned before the Hulk, of course. I’ve had it all, hell, I even developed my own testosterone formulas and sell it to endocrinologists all over the world,” Hulk beamed.   
“My man. If I wasn’t with Laura, I would kiss you right now,” Clint said while wiping the tears out of his eyes.   
“First, let me do you a favor of getting that chest cleaned up. You know, I could combine all my work and give you the body of a cis man. All you would have to do is inject your T, but you’d be able to reproduce without needing a sperm donor. Barton number 4. I fueled years of research into it, once I fused Banner and Hulk. These were my biggest life accomplishments, gamma radiation, and transgender health advancements,” Banner said as he stopped the bleeding and cleaned the wound, applying a salve to get rid of the scar. “Now, tomorrow morning, you’ll wake up a new man, literally!” Hulk smiled, walking down to Tony’s lab. He was thankful he had brought his medical instruments with him. “You won’t feel a thing, Clint. And, you’ll be back up and running in no time!”

 

48 hours later, Clint Barton stood in front of the mirror, admiring his new body. Strong, firm pecs, nice sized dick, firm abs. “Laura, babe!” He smiled. Thanks to Dr. Banner, he had no scars, if he didn’t know any better, he would have thought he had always looked this way. “Door’s open!”  
Laura walked in and saw her husband. “This is all you’ve ever wanted. How do you feel?”  
“Like a new man,” Clint chuckled. Laura slapped him. “C’mon babe, that was a good joke!”  
“Whatever you say, Clint,” she smiled, touching her lips to Clint’s, pushing him onto the bed. That night, Clint was able to feel every inch of his wife.


End file.
